Working without a Net

Wherein the author reflects on a challenging time and acknowledges the divine intervention received.

“Can you be in Caracas on Monday?”

It was Thursday.

A lot of things went through my mind at that moment, holding the then-current Nokia 6300 series cell phone to my ear.

Context: It was June 13^th, 2002, and I was sitting in the kitchen of my in-law’s house. The previous week we’d sold our condo in the Twin Cities and brought all our things to Kansas City in anticipation of closing and moving into the house we were building in southern Johnson County, Kansas, within the next few weeks.

That Monday, I found out that I’d been laid off from the enterprise software company that I’d worked for, as said company had filed Chapter 7 bankruptcy.

Rumors had been flying for the past few weeks. “Enron-like” accounting errors being found, regulatory authorities circling like wolves around an already wounded deer. Folks were going to go to jail—and they did, including the CEO. I’d talked to my colleagues, managers, and leaders that I trusted. The consensus was that something was going to happen, there would be restructuring, and while there would likely be layoffs, folks who were revenue-generating, in key areas and had key skills would be safe, and I checked all those boxes. The expectation before the news broke was that about 25% of the almost 5,000 employees would be impacted. There were no guarantees, but I felt okay following through with the move. It was important to my wife to be closer to her family and to escape the bleak winters of Minnesota.

The reality? 80% of the company workforce was let go. No severance, immediate cessation of benefits.

I was literally Meathead. Unemployed and living with my in-laws.

I was still in the “road warrior” phase of my career – the technical landscape of the time did not afford the luxury of not being on-site. I was doing out-Sunday-back-Friday work trips around forty-five weeks out of the year; my daughter thought I worked at the airport for most of her early childhood! I’d already done stints in Canada, the UK and Germany, so I was comfortable with international travel. I was young enough that I still enjoyed seeing the world – it fed my wanderlust, and I met so many interesting people in my journeys.

But it was Venezuela, and I’d have zero support system. A lone gringo in a not-particularly safe place. It was not nearly as bad as it was today, and Hugo Chavez had not shown the world his true colors (or perhaps more accurately, the internet was not so far along to be able to show the world what he was hiding from the public). There was a real chance I could get myself into serious trouble and have precious few options.

But after a bunch of phone calls, emails, and prayers over the previous three days, this was the first offer of paying work I’d gotten. It was a good rate, reflective of my skill and experience, and a bit more – in any other context it would probably have been called hazard pay.

I said I’d need an advance to cover expenses. They agreed.

It was one of the most stressful three weeks of my life. The work was the easy part – the client was PDVSA, which ended up having its advantages. The visa letter that had been overnighted to me on official government letterhead presumably saved me from intrusive scrutiny at Simon Bolivar International Airport. The corporate building the IT team worked in was part of a nicer area of the capital district, and close to the high end hotel I stayed at. Even so, it didn’t take much to see the vast gulf between the haves and have-nots in Venezuelan society. I got on well with the team I was working with, and all of them could speak more passable English than I could speak Spanish.

Still, I was constantly nervous, doing my best to be observant, to not be alone except once in my hotel room, and otherwise make myself inconspicuous. There were a couple on the team that took genuine interest in me, at least in part because they were curious about the US and could tell me things they might not otherwise say in “polite” company.

In some ways I still marvel how uneventful the trip was and thank God for His watching over me. The gig provided the funds needed to close on the new house and was the first of many for that particular partner.

Be mindful what you pray for. You might just get it.